


The brightness of the sun will give me just enough

by enbyofdionysus



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Fandom
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Percy has a bloody nose, Scars, mortal Apollo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 15:31:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5631646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbyofdionysus/pseuds/enbyofdionysus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apollo swallowed, but couldn’t take his eyes away. He reached forward on sheer instinct, but rather than tracing the healed scars, he found the pads of his fingers touching the softness of Percy’s plush lips.</p><p>“Perseus Jackson only helps those he cares about,” Hestia had told him the night before they’d set out for the trials. Her appearance had reminded him of Artemis, which had only made him more homesick for Mount Olympus. “That goes for gods as well.”</p><p>Apollo felt a smile pull at his lips now and wondered, briefly, if Percy was experiencing any affection for him. He did resemble Hycinthus a bit, had the same dark curls and facial structure.</p><p>However, the tired dryness with which he opened his eyes and looked at Apollo was all Poseidon.</p><p>“Get off my face,” he said slowly.</p><p>--</p><p>Based on the up and coming Trials of Apollo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The brightness of the sun will give me just enough

“I hate you,” Percy snapped.

“I’ve already apologized,” Apollo said, offering a tentative smile. Percy stared him down until it vanished. “I don’t know what else you want me to do. Zeus has forbidden me to help you.”

“Funny how he only forbids helping demigods and not the other way around,” Percy growled. He tilted his head back in an attempt to stop the bleeding, but halted when he heard Apollo make a ‘tsk’ sound. “What?”

“It’s not good to tilt your head back with a bleeding nose,” Apollo said. “Bring your head forward and wait for the bleeding to stop on its own.”

Percy sighed, but followed his instructions.

They were quiet for several minutes, listening to the gentle rain outside the cave. They could see the tree of golden apples in the field down below in the Garden of Hesperides. Ladon was circling the tree protectively, hissing and occasionally blowing flames from his nostrils.

It was Apollo’s last trial and already his powers had begun to slowly return, but he was beginning to doubt the possibility of returning to Olympus as a god. The Garden of Hesperides had been a trial of Hercules, he knew, but even Hercules hadn’t been able to complete the task. He’d cleverly gotten Atlas to do the job for him. Of course, Apollo could do the same thing, but the titan was too knowledgeable to fall for the same trick twice. Getting an apple would be impossible. They would never be able to do it.

“Hey.”

Apollo blinked away from the tree and back at Percy. The son of Poseidon’s face was torn from Ladon’s claws – three horrid gashes from just beneath his right eye to the bottom of his left cheek – and his chin and lips were smeared with the blood from his nose. And yet his eyes were as fierce as the strongest ocean.

“We’re going to get the apple,” Percy said, his voice firm. “You’re going to be a god again. You’ll see your sister again. You’ll be Apollo again. Okay?”

Apollo gave a small smile, lips shaking. “Okay.”

“Ladon’s too vigilant right now for us to try anything,” Percy said. He glanced over at the tree and then turned to his book bag, ruffling through it. He took out a plastic bag of ambrosia squares and chewed on one. The gashes on his face immediately looked better. Apollo’s guilt softened. “So we’ll try again tonight when he sleeps.”

“Okay,” Apollo agreed.

“For now, we should rest.” Percy took the tissue away from his nose and felt the skin just beneath it.

“It’s stopped bleeding,” Apollo answered for him.

Percy nodded once. He balled up the bloody tissue and placed it in a small pocket in his bag before scooting further back from the cave opening. He lied down on the cool, hard floor and sighed. When Apollo didn’t follow, he looked up. “You coming?”

“Soon,” Apollo answered. He turned away from Percy’s healing face and back out to the rain, the garden threateningly beautiful in the amber haze of the afternoon. “You sleep. I want to think a little more.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he heard Percy mutter and he smiled in spite of himself.

***

Percy was already asleep when Apollo came to lie down beside him.

The ambrosia had healed the gashes enough across Percy’s face enough such that they appeared like lightning bolts rather than claw marks. Apollo had been worried they would mar his handsome face forever, but amazingly (or perhaps due to Aphrodite) they only made Percy appear rougher.

Apollo swallowed, but couldn’t take his eyes away. He reached forward on sheer instinct, but rather than tracing the healed scars, he found the pads of his fingers touching the softness of Percy’s plush lips.

His heart thrummed still from earlier, at the realization that Percy had known him enough to be able to read his face, to know what he was thinking. He’d been with Apollo for each of the trials, had insisted on following him despite Apollo’s lame protestations. He’d helped Apollo kill the Hydra, nearly lost his arm while fighting the Cretan Bull, and distracted the mares of Diomedes while Apollo had penned them.

“Perseus Jackson only helps those he cares about,” Hestia had told him the night before they’d set out for the trials. Her appearance had reminded him of Artemis, which had only made him more homesick for Mount Olympus. “That goes for gods as well.”

Apollo felt a smile pull at his lips now and wondered, briefly, if Percy was experiencing any affection for him. He did resemble Hycinthus a bit, had the same dark curls and facial structure.

However, the tired dryness with which he opened his eyes and looked at Apollo was all Poseidon.

“Get off my face,” he said slowly.

Apollo jerked his hand away from Percy’s lips and cleared his throat. “Of course.”

Percy stared at him, a look Apollo hated to admit made him flush from the neck down. Admiring a mortal with the intention of being caught was one thing. This was another.

The cave rang with silence and for a moment Apollo though Percy had fallen back asleep, but when he glanced down Percy’s absinthe eyes hadn’t moved.

“Well?” Percy finally asked.

Apollo blinked. “Well what?” He hoped Percy wasn’t going to ask for an explanation because Apollo certainly didn’t have one. Not one he was willing to share any way.

Percy sighed and sat up, leaning on an elbow. Apollo couldn’t read his expression: Percy’s face usually only had two categories – happy or mad. This one looked calculating and schooled.

Apollo was about to ask again when Percy moved forward.

He let out a startled sound at the sensation of Percy’s mouth on his, but relaxed when he realized the demigod was kissing him. It was as soft as he’d assumed it would be although the angle was a little awkward.

Apollo fixed that by moving a hand forward, his slim fingers running across the olive skin of Percy’s jaw, and delicately moving Percy’s head a little more to his left.

The effect was instantaneous.

Their lips fit together perfectly and Apollo swore he could taste the sea, could hear the Muses singing in perfect harmony. His body thrummed with an excitement he couldn’t name and the kiss slowly turned to one involving teeth and tongues, sighs and groans.

Percy tugged at his lower lip with his teeth, holding his eyes, and Apollo felt desire surge low in his stomach. He should have guessed that bedding Percy would be the furthest thing from bedding Hyacinthus. Percy was the brother of Chrysaor, of Triton, of Arion.

It would be like bedding a hurricane.

Forget the Garden, Apollo thought as he moved over Percy’s body, hunger dragging at the back of his throat. Percy was his golden apple. He dipped his head and licked a slow trail along Percy’s neck as if it were true, as if a bite to the demigod’s flesh would make him immortal again.

Percy writhed beneath him, a pit of snakes ever restless, and raked Apollo’s shirt from him. Apollo pulled back just enough to see the brief spark of awe in Percy’s eyes, the flush of his cheeks, and he grinned, always taking pride in his lovers’ reactions to his body, mortal or not.

He forged himself between Percy’s thighs, relishing in the gorgeous friction it awarded, in the swell of Percy’s cock against his own, and captured the demigod’s lips in a searing kiss he felt down to his toes. It felt as if he were trying to restrain a storm, his lips moving from Percy’s to his neck, to his jaw and back again, hard enough to feel his pulse, hard enough to feel alive.

Apollo didn’t know when his hips had begun to move, only that he no longer wanted to stop. Percy held onto him desperately, his moans like battle cries, his nails leaving welts in Apollo’s mortal flesh.

Apollo’s hips continued to grind forward viciously, burying his face in Percy’s neck if only to silence his own moans, but they only grew louder as Percy ground his own hips back up into Apollo’s, as his teeth fixed themselves to Apollo’s shoulder.

It was the roughest non-penetrative sex Apollo had had since Admetus and he drank in the sounds Percy made as if they were better than the greatest legends, as if he’d die if he didn’t hear the way Percy’s breath hitched, the way he fell quiet as his orgasm built. Apollo fed on it as if it were everything, licking the sweat just beneath Percy’s jaw as their hips stuttered, as Percy choked on his name, as Apollo bit his skin.

Percy finished before he did, limbs tight and voice silent like the waves of a drowning sea, but Apollo followed him swiftly with hot kisses and sharp thrusts.

It was everything he’d always wanted, Apollo thought as he gasped Percy’s air, as he felt the slickness of Percy’s sweat against his arms, their skin, their hair, brushing together at their closeness. Percy smiled up at him, a sated storm, his eyes a beautiful shipwreck.

“Shouldn’t have done that,” Percy said, eyes closing. The smile stayed.

“Why?” Apollo asked. He bracketed Percy’s head with his elbows, fingers gently combing through the damp black curls.

“We don’t have a change of clothes,” Percy said. “Our cum’s gonna cool and it’s gonna be gross.”

Apollo blinked and then laughed. And then laughed and laughed.

Percy peaked up at him, grinning at the sound although he looked bemused. “What?”

“Nothing,” Apollo said, still chuckling as he rolled over back onto the cave floor. His hand stayed on Percy’s chest and Percy met it with his own, threading their fingers. “It’s just... That’s the one thing I hadn’t thought of. Since being mortal.”

Percy snorted, laughing softly now that he understood. “The more you know.”


End file.
